The Scarred Heir

by Denise Patrick

  Max stared in disbelief at the grimy letter he’d been handed. Tibbens had questioned the youngster who’d brought it, but learned nothing from him except that he’d been given the missive by a “finely dressed lord” who’d given him a shilling to deliver it. The urchin hadn’t even been able to tell them whether the man had a coach or was riding a horse.

  “Is there anywhere in the area where a man might hide away with someone?”

  He knew where all the deserted cottages and ruins were on Calderbrooke. None of them would shelter anyone for the length of time he’d been given to come up with the money for Sarah’s ransom.

  “There are a number of inns and villages in the area, my lord,” Tibbens responded.

  “Any place out of the way or off the main roads where someone isn’t likely to look?”

  “Not that I can think of, my lord.”

  Max went to find his father. Perhaps he would have a suggestion.

  “Her uncle, you say?” the earl asked.

  “Yes. I have one week to come up with half of the value of her inheritance or I’ll never see her again.”

  “You think he’d truly harm his own niece?”

  Max rested his head against the back of the chair and closed his eyes. He wasn’t certain of anything when it came to Sir Samuel.

  “I don’t know,” he answered his father. “I don’t know him well enough.” But he knew someone who did. “I will head for London at first light. I need to talk to Payne again.”

  “Shouldn’t you be out looking for her?”

  “I don’t have any idea where to look,” Max stated. “I could assume that her uncle might take her to London, but even that is not assured as the letter only instructs me to deposit the funds into an account at the Bank of England.”

  “I doubt he will merely walk into the bank to withdraw the funds, so one might wonder how he plans to make use of them.”

  “True, but I underestimated his resourcefulness once before. I won’t again.”

  Sleep was elusive. Max was fairly certain Andallen wouldn’t harm Sarah, but he couldn’t be one hundred percent sure, which meant he spent most of the night wondering where she was and whether she was terrified and alone or being subject to her uncle’s temper.

  He cursed himself for being a coward. Telling himself that he wanted to help Sarah solve the mystery of her father’s whereabouts had only been an excuse. A delaying tactic. Part of him had been afraid to confront his brother. To demand answers. To ask why.

  So he’d spent far more time than was necessary seeing to Sarah and skulking around his own home. Would he have averted this series of events altogether if he’d confronted David and Andallen in London? He wished he knew.

  A bitter laugh welled. He was a hero. Decorated for bravery under fire. And he couldn’t face his own brother. Instead he’d allowed David to steal four years of his life for a murder he hadn’t committed and only a few people knew about, almost all of whom were now dead.

  He told himself he was protecting Sarah, but he wasn’t. He’d been protecting himself. He’d known by the time they reached Calderbrooke the first time that he was falling in love with her. Yet he’d fought marrying her, telling himself that he was being noble for not coveting her fortune.

  His heart squeezed painfully. What a fool he’d been. And now Sarah would pay the price for his foolishness.

  When an early morning shower pelted the windows, his thoughts turned once again to Sarah’s whereabouts. His mind conjured up pictures of her tied up, shivering and wet in some long-abandoned ruin. He further tortured himself by imagining finding her only to have her die within days of a lung inflammation Dr. Clayborne couldn’t cure.

  He’d never been much of a praying man, but now he turned in that direction for help.

  “Keep Sarah safe.” In the darkness, there was only the patter of raindrops on the glass in response. “Please.”

  Bright sunlight illuminated the room when Sarah awoke. For a moment, she lay still and took stock of her person. No headache. Good. Just an odd taste in her mouth.

  As she sat up she realized she was wearing only her chemise. A quick survey of the room told her that her clothing was not present. Barefoot, she crossed the room to the washstand. Once again she was disappointed at the lack of anything that could be used as a weapon of sorts. She hefted the pitcher, wondering if she could use it.

  The sound of a key in the lock had her scurrying back to the bed and sliding under the covers before the door opened to reveal her uncle and the maid again. Once the maid deposited her tray on the table and left, she looked at her uncle. He was dressed for traveling.

  “Where are my clothes?” she demanded.

  “They are being cleaned. You will receive them back in a week.”

  “A week! It should not take an entire week to clean the dress I arrived in.”

  He leaned back against the door and stared at her. “I had to ensure you would not escape while I am away. Once I have my money, I will leave instructions on where to find you.”

  “And where will you be?”

  “I’ve decided to seek my fortune in the wilds of the Colonies. Ah, forgive me, America they call themselves now.”

  Sarah didn’t respond. She couldn’t see her uncle living among the savages she’d read about, but if he left and didn’t return, she’d gladly hand over half her fortune to be rid of him. She opened her mouth to tell him so, but he continued.

  “You will be comfortable here as long as you do not try to escape.” He nodded in the direction of the small bedside table. “I have even seen to provide you with something to pass the time.”

  She barely glanced at the stack of books she’d noticed earlier, except to note that the book she’d been reading in the Calderbrooke gardens sat on top. Whoever had taken her had been careful enough not to leave it behind. “I will not sit here docilely and allow you to rob me,” she told him instead.

  “If you escape, know that the lives of the innkeepers and their staff are on your head.”

  Her eyes widened and she sucked in a breath. “You would harm innocents because of me?”

  “I told you.” He smiled. “You are much too valuable, but the innkeepers here are dispensable. If you escape, I will turn them off and they will be left with nothing and nowhere to go. But if you bide your time like a good little girl, and I get my money, I have promised to sign over the inn to them. So you see, they have a powerful incentive to keep you here by any means.”

  Which probably meant drugging her. There was no other way to explain how she managed to fall asleep again last night and not notice her clothes being removed. It also explained the odd taste in her mouth.

  “Now I will leave you to break your fast and be on my way. I should be back within the week. Enjoy your stay.”

  Sarah did not move as he left and locked the door.

  After a very early start, Max arrived in London by midafternoon. Mr. Payne arrived within an hour of Max dispatching a note asking him to come to the townhouse.

  “Kidnapped? By Sir Samuel?”

  Max nodded. “I’m not quite sure the best way to provide a ransom, but I need an amount first.”

  “I don’t know that I can provide you with an amount.” Mr. Payne contemplated his cup of tea. “The difficulty is that technically Lord Lakersby is still considered alive and in control of his own fortune. At this point, the only amount I can offer you is the amount set aside for a dowry for Lady Royden.” He paused and took a sip before putting the cup and saucer down on the table beside his chair. “Even though it is a large sum, it would in no way be considered half of what Lord Lakersby is worth.”

  “I see.” Max leaned back into the soft leather of the desk chair. For a long moment he contemplated the polished surface of the oak desk. He was not surprised at the solicitor’s assessment. The same thing had occurred to him on his way to town.

  “In all likelihood, Lord Lakersby would have paid the amount but I’m not authorized to withdraw that much f
rom his accounts. All I was authorized to do was pay any bills his daughter incurred once she confirmed them.”

  “She had to verify the expenditures?” Max leaned forward. When Mr. Payne nodded, he smiled. “That might just buy us some time.” The outline of a plan began to form in Max’s head. Looking across the library, he ran through the possibilities. Plausible, but it depended on how badly Andallen wanted money versus revenge.

  “How?”

  Max turned back to his guest. “There is a spy in your office.”

  The solicitor sat up straight. “A what? Who? And how do you know this?”

  Max related the conversation he’d overhead and the incident when Sir Samuel visited the hotel. “It was the reason we left so hurriedly. And…it was the reason we married just as quickly.”

  “I see.” Mr. Payne rose from his chair. “I will discover who it is and he will be dismissed.”

  “Not yet.” Max’s voice stopped Mr. Payne in the act of gathering up his satchel. “He might be useful. It’s possible that, even if he doesn’t know of the kidnapping, he knows where Sarah’s uncle might have her hidden.” He steepled his fingers beneath his chin and stared straight ahead.

  “Then we should demand that he tell us. Then he will be dismissed.”

  “Please be seated again, Mr. Payne. I have a plan. Not a very good one, I confess, but it’s the best I have on such short notice.”

  The solicitor resumed his seat and looked at Max expectantly.

  Max dropped his palms flat on the desk and looked directly at the young man.

  “This is what I propose we do.”

  Night had already fallen by the time the door opened revealing the same young woman who had brought all her trays of food during the day. Sarah was nearly asleep on the bed. She heard the pause before the woman picked up the tray and left as quietly as she’d entered. Her stomach protested loudly at the loss of the food Sarah refused to eat.

  She’d read once that starvation was a horrible way to die, but she was willing to risk it if it brought her jailer to visit. She’d not eaten nor drunk anything left for her the entire day. Unsure of what might be drugged, and mindful of her uncle’s warnings about the people who held her captive, she’d been careful not to touch anything on any of the trays. She had sipped some of the water left for her to wash with and hoped someone with some authority might come to check on her. It wasn’t much of a plan, but it was all she had.

  She hadn’t even decided what she was going to say to the person. It was possible they might try to force-feed her, but she doubted that tactic would get them very far. She knew from experience that it was extremely difficult to feed an unconscious person and she expected that going without food for an extended period of time might cause her to faint. In fact, she was counting on it.

  Closing her eyes, she allowed her body to relax as she drifted into sleep.

  Sunlight spilled into the room through the small window the next time Sarah opened her eyes. A large woman stood over her and an even larger man stood beside the woman.

  “Here now, Missy,” the woman said. “I brung yer food to break yer fast, an’ I ’spect you to eat ever’ bit of it.”

  Sarah merely stared at her for a moment then closed her eyes to drift back into slumber.

  The woman shook her awake. “Don’t ye go back to sleepin’,” she demanded. “Ye be needin’ to eat.”

  “No.” Sarah was surprised at the strength she was able to muster into that one word. “Can’t eat. Food bad.”

  The woman drew herself up. “’Tis not,” she replied indignantly. “His lordship said we was to keep ye healthy ’til he comes back.”

  “Not coming back,” Sarah lied. “Going to America.”

  “What’s this?” The man spoke for the first time. “What d’ye mean he ain’t comin’ back?”

  “Told me he was going to London to get his money. Then he’s going to America.” Sarah rolled onto her back and looked at the pair. “Said once he got his money, he would tell my husband where to find me.” She took a deep breath. “He will be gone and you will be thrown into prison. Maybe even hang.”

  At that the woman rounded on the man in a panic. “I tol’ you he wasn’t gonna give us our due. An’ now look at what’s happened. We’ll be the ones they hang. An’ he’ll get away.”

  “Shut yer trap, woman.” He pushed her aside and came closer to the bed. “He tol’ us he would give us the inn if’n we kept ye here ’til he came back.”

  “Did he tell you when he would be back?” Sarah asked.

  The man hesitated. “No.”

  Sarah watched the pair closely. She knew her only hope was to convince them that her uncle would betray them and leave them to pay for his crime. In the early hours of the morning, as she tried not to think about how hungry she was, she’d conceived the plan. If she could carry it out, she hoped to be on her way to London by afternoon. If not, she had no other plan and might as well eat and hope her uncle hadn’t lied.

  “He’s not coming back,” she repeated. “All he wants is to get out of England. To do that he needs money. Once he gets the money he’s asked my husband for, he’s leaving on a ship for America. He told me he’d tell my husband where to find me before he left.” She rolled onto her side and sat up. Sitting still to quell the momentary dizziness, she continued, “My husband is Viscount Royden. He won’t come alone.”

  The information had the desired effect and Sarah looked up in time to see the look of horror on the woman’s face. The man had turned white under his ruddy skin.

  “But he said ye was his niece and he was yer guardian,” the woman protested.

  “He said ye was runnin’ away an’ he caught up with ye on the road. He brung you here ’cause it was close,” the man added.

  “Actually, he kidnapped me from Calderbrooke. Do you know where it is and how close we are to it?”

  “Never heard of it,” the man responded.

  “How far are we from London then?”

  “A coupla hours on the Mail, but it don’t stop here ever’ day.”

  “When is it due next?”

  “Tomorry afternoon.”

  Sarah closed her eyes against the sunlight. A slow pounding had begun in her head, a sure sign she had been too long without food. She was surprised at how weak she felt after only one day of nothing to eat. If she convinced them to let her go, would she be strong enough to make the ride to London?

  Chapter Fourteen

  His time was up.

  In the past week, Max tried everything he could think of to find Sarah. The spy in Payne’s office knew nothing about Sarah’s disappearance.

  “He’s told me nothing,” the clerk insisted. “I didn’t know.” He wasn’t optimistic that Andallen would even contact him. The one thing he had been able to tell them was where Andallen’s lodgings were. It would have been more helpful if Andallen had actually been in residence, but the man Max set to watch the rooms reported to him daily. There had been no sign of Andallen until yesterday.

  More than that, David hadn’t answered the letter he’d sent to Templeton Manor. It hadn’t given him much hope that his brother wasn’t involved in Andallen’s schemes.

  The money had been the least of his worries. With a letter of permission from his father, the bank had made the money available from the earldom’s accounts. Max, however, had only deposited a fraction of the amount into Andallen’s account. The bank manager had cooperated fully and agreed to give Andallen a note if he came to withdraw the funds.

  Now Max sat in the library of the townhouse. Waiting. Hoping that Andallen would go to the bank first thing in the morning then act.

  Overcast and dreary, the day suited Max’s mood. Worry about Sarah had taken its toll. The week had been one sleepless night after another. The cool air drifting through the partially open windows helped to keep him alert. And allowed him to hear a vehicle of some sort stop in front of the house for a few moments before going on its way.

  The front doo
r knocker sounded through the front hall. Suddenly alert, Max heard the footman who answered the door speaking to someone, then a raised voice.

  “Of course he’s expecting me,” an angry voice drifted through the slightly open door. “He wouldn’t have left me this bloody note if he wasn’t.”

  Determined footfalls approached the library, followed by the butler’s anxious voice. “I will see if he will see you, sir.”

  “He bloody well will see me!”

  Max was crossing the carpet to the door when it burst open and a man came through it. Of average height, Sir Samuel Andallen had the look of a man who enjoyed his food. At the moment, however, he looked anything but happy. His face was red and his eyes narrowed to menacing slits as they fell on Max.

  “It’s all right, Griffin. I’ve been expecting the gentleman.”

  Griffin drew himself up and resumed his normally calm facade. “Very good, my lord.” He shot a glare at Andallen’s back before he closed the door silently behind him.

  Max took the opportunity to resume his seat behind the desk.

  Andallen found his voice again. “What’s the meaning of this, Royden?” he demanded, waving a piece of paper crumpled in a large fist.

  Max did not immediately answer him. Instead he studied Sarah’s uncle and allowed the silence to stretch between them. For a moment, he saw uncertainty in Andallen’s gaze before the other man looked around the room as if assuring himself they were truly alone.

  “I thought it was perfectly clear.” He kept his tone even. “I see you didn’t follow my instructions.”

  “Your instructions! You don’t seem to understand the situation here.” Andallen reached the desk and slapped both hands down on the surface as he leaned toward Max. “I have Sarah and you will not see her again unless you hold up your end of the bargain.”

  “I see.” Max picked up a feathered quill and smoothed the ends through his fingers. “In that case, we have a problem.”